


Psychological Factors In Costume Design

by incapricious



Category: Community
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incapricious/pseuds/incapricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff did one uncool thing and now his life is ruined forever.  What he needs is revenge on Troy and Abed. Or maybe karmic justice; "revenge" sounds so Old Testament, which really isn't his style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychological Factors In Costume Design

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juniper (junipermouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipermouse/gifts).



> * Happy Yuletide, ncc_gqmf! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> * Thank you to my betas, who shall remain nameless for now, but are nonetheless awesome.  
> 

|| _Friday, 10:08 PM_ ||

As Jeff sits in his underwear on the floor of Abed's dorm room, he begins to realize that his plan for revenge may not come to fruition. If only he had taken video of that weird ice skating thing, he definitely could have used that...

 

|| _Two Months Ago_ ||

Troy skates to a stop in front of Jeff, his skirt shedding a few sequins; they fall to the asphalt and lie there, shiny purple spots on a dirty parking lot. "Two points?! This is an outrage! I demand a recount!"

Jeff sighs, puts down his cardboard scorecard, and delivers his lines. "This is figure skating. There are no recounts. Whatever I say, goes."

Abed glides over to join Troy, looking a little like a newborn giraffe for a moment when he almost loses his balance. His roller skates have strips of aluminum foil taped along their sides in a misguided attempt to make them look like ice skates. "Jeff, do you think you could say that with a bit more of an accent? You're supposed to be the East German judge."

Jeff has no idea why he agreed to do this. "You know Germany was reunified twenty years ago, right?"

"But _obviously_ this takes place in the past, because we're not even using the ISU judging system. We're using the 6.0 system," Troy says, giving Abed a look that Jeff interprets as, "I knew we should have asked someone else."

"Besides," adds Abed, "there's something about international skating competitions during the Cold War. It's like the skating was a metaphor for politics. Or maybe vice versa."

Jeff doesn't think Abed is making any sense, but he also doesn't want to spend his entire Saturday sitting on a folding chair in the middle of the parking lot discussing Cold War politics. "Okay, fine, whatever. I'm the East German judge."

"All right. Let's do this," Troy says.

Abed points at Troy's face. "Wait. Your lipstick is smudged."

"Dammit! I knew I should have used primer! Now I have to redo everything."

Jeff watches Troy skate away, presumably towards the women's restroom, and wishes he had brought a book to read.

 

|| _Friday, 10:09 PM_ ||

And also, there was last year's Santa ordeal. Why is it that they can pull a moronic stunt like that -- just one in a long series of moronic stunts -- and emerge unscathed but Jeff does one single uncool thing and it's probably going to haunt him forever?

 

|| _December 12, 2009_ ||

"It's not even a chimney! What were you thinking?" Jeff yells into the darkness of the laundry chute.

Troy's voice echoes up from somewhere below. "We just wanted to see how Santa did it! You know... if he was real. Which he's _not_."

"But... it's a metal chute. Santa -- I know he's not real -- couldn't scale solid metal. He's not Spiderman!" Jeff closes his eyes for a moment. My God, he's starting to sound like them. "And also, why did you both go down there at the same time?" he asks, before either Troy or Abed can start speculating on the exact attributes of a Santa/Spiderman hybrid they will no doubt call The Amazing Spider Claus.

"Neither one of us was large enough to be Santa alone," says Abed. "So we had to join forces."

"This hat is itchy. I think I'm allergic to felt," Troy adds.

"Are you in _costume_?"

"Of course we are, otherwise we-- Troy, hold on!"

There is a rushing sound, like something sliding over metal, followed by a distant thud. Jeff sticks his head through the square metal opening. "What happened? Are you hurt? Guys?"

"I dropped the bag of toys," says Troy. He sounds forlorn. "Also, I have to pee."

Jeff starts to laugh. He pulls out his phone. "I'll call the fire department and tell them to bring a really long rope."

 

|| _Friday, 10:48 PM_ ||

Troy is naked, and Jeff is starting to think he might be able to pull this off. He just needs to focus. As he waits for Abed to take his turn, he looks around the room. The pile of _Battlestar Galactica_ DVDs are still sitting next to the couch from their November marathon.

Maybe that's when it all went wrong. _Battlestar Galactica_ sounds like such a nerdy thing, and yet it is _so good_ , and the women are _so hot_. Jeff let down his guard after that; that's why he agreed to be a part of the flash mob.

"Stupid cylons," he mutters.

"So say we all," intone Troy and Abed in unison.

 

|| _The Weekend Before Thanksgiving_ ||

"Do you want to be a part of our flash mob?" Abed asks.

"No," Jeff answers without even looking up from his phone. Someone named 'cheese shop long legs' on his contact list just texted him something completely outrageous, and he has to focus on crafting the perfect retort.

"Well, Britta was right," says Troy. "Who else do we know that's tall enough?"

"Hmm. How tall is Star Burns?"

Jeff presses send and smirks. Then he registers what Troy and Abed said. "First, what did Britta say? Because I guarantee you she's wrong. And second, please don't act like you can replace me with Star Burns. I've got three inches on him, at least."

"Great, I knew we could count on you," Abed says and hands Jeff a large paper bag. "Meet in the quad at noon in costume. You already know the song, I'm sure, but the lyrics are in there just in case."

Jeff looks into the bag and sees yellow feathers. He digs around until he finds a piece of paper at the bottom. He spends a while staring at it blankly, as if hoping it will change into something else. "Guys, I don't think I can do this," he says. But they are already gone.

 

|| _Friday, 10:56 PM_ ||

Jeff is naked now, and willing to admit that this hasn't gone at all to plan. He should have just yelled at Troy and Abed and left like he originally planned.

 

|| _Friday, 8:58 PM_ ||

"Hey Abed, do you have any idea how much your little--" Jeff says, and then stops his carefully crafted tirade, hand still on the doorknob to Abed's room. "Uh, what's going on here?"

Troy pulls his t-shirt the rest of the way off and sits back down. Abed is shuffling a deck of cards, sitting on the floor across from Troy. One of his shoes is on the floor beside him. Troy's shirt lies in a crumpled heap next to his own shoes and socks.

"Hi Jeff," Abed says. "We're playing strip poker. I'm winning."

Jeff only has time to think, _of course they are_ before Troy says, "That's because all you have is a poker face! It's your only face!" He looks up at Jeff, eyes wide. "How am I supposed to tell if he's bluffing when he _doesn't even blink_. It's like playing poker with a robot. A robot with eyes like a sad puppy."

"I blink. If I didn't, my eyes would dry out." Abed points at Troy like he's just remembered something. "Tomorrow we should build a robot dog."

"Can it be a wiener robot dog?"

"Of course," answers Abed. They bump fists. Jeff shuts the door behind him, just to make sure there are no witnesses to his involvement in this, however temporary.

"Well, it looks like you managed to beat him once," he says, eyeing Abed's shoe.

"Yeah, but I had four aces."

"Ah. So it wasn't so much a psychological victory as a statistical one."

"Do you want to play?" Abed asks, holding up the deck of cards. "You can have next deal."

"Gee, I'd love to, but there seems to be a dearth of women in the room, which makes playing strip poker kind of pointless."

"I told you this was weird," Troy mutters and pulls his knees to his chest.

Jeff is on the brink of informing them that yes, this is weird, thereby embarrassing both of them and achieving karmic balance, but then he realizes it will probably only embarrass Troy, which isn't good enough. Also, he has no desire to be forced to endure another lecture from Britta about how culturally-ingrained homophobia leads to fear of platonic intimacy between men and how there is nothing wrong with Troy and Abed's friendship, just with society. He knows she's right, but that doesn't mean she has to be so sanctimonious about it.

"It's not weird," he says. "It's just not my thing." It sounds like something from an after-school special, but Troy lowers his knees, so: mission accomplished?

Abed tilts his head and looks up at Jeff. "While it's true the classic motivation for guys playing strip-poker is seeing naked ladies, the embarrassment most people feel at involuntary nudity can serve as a negative reinforcement which closely resembles the pain of losing significant sums of money."

Jeff pauses to translate, and then says, "So, you're playing strip poker because you're too broke to play poker with real money?"

"We were using jellybeans, but then we got hungry," Abed says with a shrug. "And there weren't enough watermelon jellybeans to sustain the game."

"Fake watermelon flavor is evil," Troy adds, as if that explains everything.

"So how about it, Jeff. Are you in?"

This just might work. If what Abed says is true -- and Jeff believes that it is -- then beating them at strip poker might be just what he needs: to be the humiliator, not the humiliated.

"Sure," he says, sitting down between Troy's shirt and Abed's shoe. He is pleased to see Troy looks surprised. "Prepare to lose your shirts. Literally."

"Troy already lost his shirt."

"Don't worry, he's going to lose his pants too." Jeff holds out his hand. "Abed, give me the cards."

 

|| _Friday, 10:21 PM_ ||

Troy wriggles out of his jeans and tosses them onto the couch. They land beside Jeff's own jeans, which are neatly folded next to his shirt and sport coat. Jeff shifts a little where he's sitting, trying to ignore the carpet prickling the backs of his thighs, and mutters, "I should have seen this coming."

Abed collects the cards and puts them back onto the deck. "True. It is a classic sequence of events. The cocky man declares he's going to win, followed by a cut to him in his underwear and his opponent fully clothed."

"Excuse me. Your feet are bare, Abed. You are not fully clothed," Jeff retorts. He knows he's being petty, but dammit, he can't help it. He's a lawyer. "And also, we've been playing for an hour. It's not like all of a sudden, Troy and I were clad only in our boxer-briefs." He turns to Troy. "Those look familiar, by the way. Organic soy/cotton blend?"

Troy smiles, looking a little abashed. "I bought some the other week. Yours looked so soft."

"Aren't they fantastic?"

"Yeah. It's like my butt is being cradled by the wings of angels."

Jeff blinks. "Not the metaphor I would have chosen, but sure, let's go with that. Did you get them from that little boutique on Main Street?"

"Yeah! They're so nice there!"

"Troy, it's your deal." Abed announces. Jeff chides himself for letting high-quality undergarments distract him.

"Maybe we should just say that the game ends at underwear," Troy says, a little hesitantly.

No. Jeff smells blood in the metaphorical water, and that blood is made of cards. Abed just has to lose three more times -- assuming he isn't wearing any hidden layers -- and Troy once. It's totally doable. "No," Jeff says, this time out loud. "We're seeing this through. To the end. Wherever it goes."

Troy nods and takes the cards.

 

|| _Friday, 10:57 PM_ ||

"Well, Troy. You lost," Jeff says.

"Um, so did you. Don't try to pretend you're not naked. Not that I'm looking, but you are."

"Well, that depends on how you defining losing at poker. Maybe the first one out is the loser. I came in second." Changing 'winning' to mean beating Troy was a completely reasonable thing to do.

Abed shook his head. "That's just sad, Jeff. At least have the maturity to lose with dignity."

"Dignity? Let me tell you about dignity. I no longer have any." Jeff stands up. Troy looks stunned for a moment and then averts his eyes, but Abed looks up at Jeff, completely unfazed. "Do you know where I was tonight? I'll tell you. I was on a date. With possibly the hottest woman in the state of Colorado. We had some drinks at the bar and were totally hitting it off. And then we were shown to our table. And right before we sat down, this guy at the next table leans over and says, 'Hey, Big Bird!'"

Troy stifles a laugh. Jeff's glare is wasted due to Troy's continued insistence on studying the carpet.

"It's _not funny_. I get recognized everywhere now! And not because I'm so handsome or because I drive a nice car or even because for a while I was on a billboard. I get recognized because I was _Big Bird_ in a Sesame Street flash mob that someone posted on YouTube that went viral."

"That video made people happy," Abed says. "Everyone loves that song."

"I don't care about making people happy. I care about--" Jeff doesn't know how to finish that sentence. He knows he has changed in his three semesters at Greendale because the way he formerly would have ended that sentence ("money, women, and being right") sounds kind of... toolish. He sits down. "I mean making people happy is great, but not when it's at my expense."

Troy frowns at Jeff. "Wait, did your date laugh at you or something?"

"She watched the video on her phone right at the restaurant. Then she said she didn't think she could possibly ever have sex with me without thinking of Sesame Street. She ended up leaving with the guy who called me Big Bird."

"Man, that's harsh," Troy says, but he starts laughing anyway and this time doesn't stifle it. Abed smiles and Jeff realizes the whole thing is pretty ridiculous.

"I guess if I had told her I was going to go play strip poker with Bert and Ernie she would have been even more horrified," he says, and feels himself smiling. "She wasn't actually that hot. Well, no, she was, but who cares? It's her loss."

It's true. He has friends, even if some of them are nerds, and a part in a world-famous video that will pass out of the collective attention-deficit-addled consciousness of the Internet by Tuesday, and tomorrow he can call up that woman who slipped him her phone number in the cafeteria line if he wants to.

Abed stands up suddenly and pulls off his pants.

"What the hell, Abed?" Jeff asks as Abed sits down again.

"Now we're all naked. Before there was a power imbalance, because I had clothes on and you didn't."

It does feel different. Before, Jeff felt like a naked guy in a room, but now he is a guy in a room where everyone is naked.

Troy is looking at Abed's pants and frowning. "You went commando to play strip poker?"

Jeff looks at Abed's discarded pants, and Troy is right: there is no underwear tucked inside of them.

"That's... actually impressively ballsy," Jeff says.

"Not really. I can't read emotions, so I've had to learn to read gestures and facial expressions. I notice things most people don't, because otherwise I don't know what they're feeling and I end up saying the wrong thing. It only works some of the time for figuring out emotions, but it's pretty foolproof for picking up tells."

"Huh."

Troy looks at Jeff and raises one eyebrow. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Oh yeah," Jeff answers. "Vegas road trip. Spring break 2011."

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool," Abed says.

 

|| _Saturday, 12:16 AM_ ||

"Bye, Jeff! See you Monday!" Abed calls. He closes the door and turns around. Troy is sitting on the couch. They are both still naked. "What do you want to do now?"

Troy shrugs. "I dunno."

"We could have sex."

"Yeah, okay," Troy says after a pause. "Who are we gonna be?"

"Hmm. How about this time, I'll be McCoy and you can be Kirk."

"But... those are two dudes."

"So are we."

"I know but... can't we be Uhura and Spock again?"

"Sure," Abed says. "Want to watch the movie again first?"

Troy nods and Abed bends to insert the DVD, and then sits down next to Troy.

As the movie begins to play, Troy takes Abed's hand.


End file.
